One for the Road
by LovinFace
Summary: Short little story. Takes place after Recipe for Heavy Bread. Face drowns his memories in whiskey. Hannibal tries to help.


One for the Road

By: LovinFace

Summary: Takes place after Recipe for Heavy Bread. Face is drowning his memories in whiskey. Story complete.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

"C'mon, Face. Let's go. You've had enough." Hannibal put his hand on Face's arm and tried to pull him out of the corner booth. He'd spent most of the night looking for his lieutenant and had finally found him holed up in bar on the "wrong" side of town.

"No. You can't make me." Face spoke, slow and deliberates, pulling his arm from Hannibal's grip. He ran his hands through his hair, then wrapped one around the whiskey bottle and the other around the shot glass. The bottle was nearly empty. He poured another drink and downed it in a loud gulp. He slammed the glass on the table. "Ahhh. That's some good shtuff." He turned to Hannibal. "Why don't you just get up and leave me alone? Go on, Hanbul." Face was fighting to stay focused. He waved his hand toward the door. "Go!"

Hannibal tried to pull the bottle away. "No, I'm not going. You're in no condition to drive, Lt. Now get up and let's go." Hannibal said forcibly. He reached out again for Face's arm.

"I'm not goin' Hanbul! I quit!" Face slammed the bottle on the table. "I'm a grown man. You can't tell me what to do!" His eyes bore into Hannibal's.

Hannibal took a deep breath. "Yes, you're a grown man. But you're also drunk. Your judgment is impaired. Now come on. Sleep it off, and we'll talk in the morning." He offered his hand to Face. "Please?"

"Chou would make me say 'Please.'" Face spoke barely above a whisper, his eyes looking at the bottle, but not seeing it. "He would put the gun to my head and make me say 'Please.'"

Hannibal sighed. "Look, Kid. You don't have to worry about Chou. He's going to be put away for a long time for the things he did in the camps. You're safe now." He put his hand on Face's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"I didn't wanna do it Hanbul. I tried to fight him." Face was fighting tears now. He sunk lower into the booth. He put his head back and looked at the ceiling. "God, what did I do to piss you off? Tell me!" he yelled. In one swift motion, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a revolver and the cocked the gun.

Hannibal reached out to Face. "Hey, Face, there's no need for a gun. C'mon. Let's just get out of here okay? Give me the gun."

Face's grip tightened on the butt of the gun. "No. It ends here. Now."

Hannibal swallowed hard, never taking his eyes off Face. "Face, talk to me. C'mon son, just put down the gun."

"I am NOT your son Hanbul!" Face yelled. Then in a whisper, he added, "I'm not an'body's son." He stared at the gun.

"That's not true, Face. You're my son. Maybe not by birth, but by heart. Don't you know that? From the first day you were on the team, I knew you were special. I knew--"

Face snapped his head and turned to Hannibal. "That's what HE would say. Said I was special."

Hannibal sighed. No matter what he said, Face was relating it all to Chou, the sadistic bastard who had tortured him in the camps. He decided to try another tactic. "Face, you are the son I always wanted. After our first mission, you know what Ray Brenner told me?" He reached out to lift Face's face toward his own, but Face flinched and scooted over in the booth. Hannibal continued. "He told me that if he didn't know better, he'd swear you were my kid. He said it was obvious we were connected. I think he was right."

Face squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then opened them slowly. His hold on the gun remained firm. "I just want the… pain to end, Hanbul." He was having trouble staying focused.

"I know, Kid. I know." Hannibal reached for the whiskey bottle. Face let him take it. Hannibal poured a shot of whiskey and drank it. He poured another one. "Here Face. How about one for the road, huh?"

Face took the glass and downed the whiskey. "Juss..want it…to end Hanbul." His grip on the gun began to relax. He squeezed eyes shut and opened them. "Room's spinnin' Hanbul." He slumped against the booth, his eyes closed.

After Face passed out, Hannibal reached and took the gun and put it in his own pocket. He didn't envy the hangover Face would have in the morning, but at least that was something he could deal with. The pain inflicted by Chou…that was a whole different matter. Hannibal knew that Face relived the camps in his dreams. Well, tonight there would be no dreams. Hannibal would see to that. He pulled Face out of the booth, and hoisted him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "C'mon, son. Let's go home."

The End


End file.
